The longer version

Rob was finishing up the trim work on our window seats in the kitchen. I was outside on our sunporch watching the little kids who were playing in the back yard.

Suddenly Rob came running out screaming that he had to go to the ER right then. I started screaming back, "Shut-UP! I know you are joking." And even though he was holding up a bloody stump and blood was pouring down his arm, I kept yelling at him to stop the joking around. After a couple of times of going back and forth I came to my senses and told him to get in the car.

Before we left I wrapped the base of his thumb in duct tape, what's not to love about this tape, to stop the bleeding. It also pretty effectively cut off the circulation to his thumb so it wasn't hurting as much as it could, and would once we arrived at the er and they cut the duct tape off.

We did find out that chopping of most of your thumb does not give you a free pass out of the waiting room. Also, that only men come to the emergency clutching bloody rags to their bodies, having cut, chopped, or blown off parts of their bodies. And with every man, sits a woman shaking her head.

Basically he cut off the back half of his thumb. Almost as if you scooped out the entire area, including the bone, behind your fingernail, yet left the fingernail pretty much intact.

Since it was a holiday weekend, Rob had to wait until today, Tuesday, to see the hand surgeon, who will repair the damage. He will have to have the tip of his finger cut off and a skin graft from his hip.

To say that he is bummed out, would be an understatement. He is also disappointed in the level of pain relief afforded by his Percocet prescription.

Not that it stopped him from finishing the building of the window seats or coaching baseball practice. He's tough like that, or crazy.